Afterlife
by high-risk-fission
Summary: Pip's has just had the life squashed out of him. How do things go for him in hell?
1. Chapter 1

_I needed to upload this story before I started hating it. _

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park. I know, it's shocking.

**_Takes place after "201_**

**_ For some reason, whether-or-not to capitalize 'hell' was a real dilemma for me... it still doesn't always look right. _**

**_ Also, please just mentally insert Kenny's muffled voice. I don't want to play translator or write in muffled. It's a pain, and it's not worth it._**

The fly-covered smear of flesh stretched before the group of boys was more than a little unnerving. Sure, they hadn't ever liked the chirpy little British kid, or even worried when he cracked his head open, exploded, or was subjected any other harm. They had barely even noticed him these days, but here it was, the brutal reminder of their old punching bag, Pip, reduced to a skid mark on the asphalt. It wasn't nearly as bad as Chef's death, but it was still pretty fucked up!

"Dude..." Stan's stomach churned.

"This whole day, man..." Kyle turned down the road, "I need to watch some Terrence and Phillip."

"Yep, it's been a heavy dose o' shit today," Cartman's voice was thick with exhaustion. He couldn't believe he was _half ginger. _His life seemed so backwards now.

Kenny was last to walk away. He'd seen his own body in worse shape than Pip's, but it still wasn't a pleasant sight, "Good luck in Hell," his muffled voice encouraged as they left the ravaged streets.

"Oh dear. Well, I guess she didn't like my speech," the scrawny fourth-grader looked about himself with a worried expression.

This could only be the afterlife, but it didn't look much like heaven or hell; just an endless sky that slowly carried him higher, like a roller coaster ready to drop off at any moment. He sincerely hoped it would continue rising, for Pip didn't think he really deserved to be dropped in Hell. Not that he'd thought he deserved to die, though, either. Who knew what his fate would be.

"Just when everyone was starting to hate me less..." he stifled a quiver, "No, I've got to be positive as always. Keep a stiff upper lip!" Things weren't so bad.

Slowly, his ascension halted, finally coming to rest at the foot of a swirling cumulonimbus. Hidden in the veil of vapor was a massive button, a truly odd contraption to be in the afterlife, but who was he to question it? The switch begged to be pushed, but pip hesitated.

Come on. What are you waiting for, you stupid frog? he mentally chastised himself for locking up. You can't be afraid of a button now!

But the tiny Brit was scared, or at least intimidated. He could sense that this switch would decide his fate, and... it was a heavy feeling to hold in his chest. He needed to be calm for this moment.

Breathe deep...

"Let's hope for the best!" A hopeful smile escaped and he dropped his palm upon the cold surface.

DENIED.

Denied?

Suddenly, the force holding him aloft was gone, plummeting faster than the boy's spirits. Flames nipped his clothes as he fell further and further from the shining light above, the sky going from white to blue to red to black, until finally he belly flopped to the burning stone at the end of his destination.

"It's because I hated the French," he lamented, "I shouldn't have been so hard on them. It's not their fault they're so snobbish and cowardly."

...

"Oh dear, I did it again," he whimpered.

Shadows skirted about on the periphery of Pip's vision. He made no move to hide from them, and they made no move to disturb him, instead allowing the boy to whimper in pain from the landing. It hurt even more than when Cartman had ro-sham-boed him for that arrowhead. After a few more minutes of lying in fetal-position, the blond rose on shaky feet to assess his predicament.

"I suppose I'll be living here for the next eternity, then," a slight frown split his countenance.

Spirits in pain howled from all directions, but there seemed to be a fair amount of people not in pain, just meandering about, some even enjoying themselves. The freshly damned soul wasn't sure where he was meant to go first.

"Very well, I'll just get to know the place a bit better. I'm sure it's not all bad."

"Stop thinking out loud!" a passerby barked.

"Sorry." I must remember to keep an eye on that.

Little, black gremlins scurried just off the footpath as Pip made his way toward the nearest lake of fire. They cackled and spat from the shadows like coal briquettes, hissing at the ridiculous child that had infiltrated their wonderland of pain. Pip simply tried to maintain his calm demeanor.

They're not trying to kill me, so I suppose that's a positive sign. I do hope I've nothing to be fear from them. The snarling beastlets were even cute in a way. So long as they didn't decide to turn on him.

"Oh my god, they killed Kenny!"

"You bastards!"

"Well, the sign _did_ say it was slippery..." Butters stuttered.

"Goddamn, though, did they mop the floor with placenta or something?"

"You gotta admit guys, that was a funny one," Cartman chuckled, waddling after the other three.

Despite having been down this tunnel so many times, Kenny still couldn't stick the landing. It was just a good thing his pain tolerance was high enough that the fall didn't hurt anymore; just a second or two of shock and he was ready to go burn some time. It was generally pretty dull waiting to be reincarnated, but that was more his own fault. In all the times he'd been here, Kenny never bothered to make friends or talk to many people. There was never a shortage of topless women in Hell, though. That was a BIG plus. He figured that he had enough friends on Earth, but not enough boobs, and made the obvious choice.

"Oh, ladies!" he mumbled through the coat, running past the nearest lake of fire to the nearest whorehouse. They never let him in, even Hell had a few standards, but at least not all the windows were covered.

"Tally ho, Kenneth!"

The hooded boy stopped short and palmed his face at the cheerful voice. Leave it to Pip to ruin hell.

Kenny prepared his not-really-interested-but-dammit-I'm-trying voice. After all, the guy _just_ died, there wasn't any reason to be a dick about it. "Hey Pip, sorry to hear about your shitty luck."

"My luck...? Oh— yes, but I should think yours is a bit worse than mine," he laughed nervously, "Where were you headed just now? Should I let you alone?"

"I was going to check out..." he tried to think of a lie, but ultimately called fuck it, "I was gonna peek at boobs, Pip. That's what I usually do here."

The British boy's face reddened while he fidgeted uncomfortably, "Sorry to get in the, uh, the way of that... Carry on, then. Best wishes!"

Blushing about _tits_ in the realm of darkness. Part of Kenny felt really bad for the kid. Pip definitely wasn't Hell material; he was way too polite and innocent. Then again, maybe all that blind optimism would help him take the fire and brimstone better than some. Maybe it all came down to determination.

The perverted little immortal sighed. He didn't know what to do in this situation. Pip's forced smile was really bringing h down The boobs were a much less discomforting topic, so he decided to follow that route.

"See ya."

"Goodbye."

Thank god that was over. Now all he had to do was get to his destination... wait. No. Don't look back! Don't do it, you bastard, it's not you're problem. That's it, just keep walking. Get to the foot of that hill and you're in the clear. A little further. Ok, good job. Now get to those hooters!

They did an almost-thorough job of distracting him from happy/sorrowful Pip.

Kenny's pleasant transition from death to life that next morning was interrupted by the family's phone ringing.

"Get the damn phone, Kevin!"

"I'm busy, make Kenny get the damn phone!"

"Somebody better get the damn phone!"

"I got it!" Kenny snapped as he zipped his parka and pulled up the hood, "Hey."

Stan's voice,"Hey, Kenny, we're all gonna go to Cartman's to play Lambs, can you come?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes." He groaned after ending the call.

Lambs wasn't Kenny's favorite game. Last time, he'd been knocked into the pit; surviving the fall, surprisingly enough. However, it had been a hell of a time getting out again. That being said, the game itself was pretty hilarious when you weren't in Polly Prissypants's position.

"It rub's the lotion on it's skin, or else it gets the hose again!"

(in Polly's voice) "Please sir, I have a family!"

"It puts the lotion in the basket!"

(in Polly's voice) "Please, I won't tell anyone!"

"It put's the lotion in the GODDAMN basket!"

Sometimes Kyle got into the game even more than Cartman did.

"Hey, where's Butters?" Stan piped up, looking to shift the conversation away from fatass's doll. Also, half of him was actually curious.

"He went to that French kid's funeral," Cartman stated apathetically as he hauled the bucket up.

"I didn't know they were friends."

"Dude, that's just the way Butters is. They might've only talked once, but he's still going."

"Who cares, he's gonna be sorry that he went to some gay funeral instead of playing Lambs."

Kenny's mind, much to his annoyance drifted to yesterday's visit to hell. Shit, I thought I was done worrying about that. I made it _all_ the way to the whorehouse! Come on!

"Hey, when Butters gets back how about we play Junior Lumberjacks?"

"No way, man. My mom'll break my arms if she finds out I was playing that again."

"That's fine, Jews can't be lumberjacks anyway."

"Shut it fatass! You'd be out of breath halfway through the first axe swing!"

Kenny fell back laughing. He could see it already.

"Fuck you, Kenny!"


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer: _**Nope. Still don't own South Park.

**_If you have any criticism I would love to hear it. Seriously, I always appreciate the pointers. Be as brutal as you need. _**

**_Also, tell me whether-or-not you think Kenny is in character. To me he seems to flip-flopping. It's bothersome. _**

His first day in the inferno had been a bit unnerving, but overall not very hellish. In many ways it resembled life on Earth, just with more fire and screaming. He had to wonder if heaven was all that it had been cracked up to be. Maybe he was better off here. Pip couldn't imagine a perfect life of relaxation anyhow. One of the bigger shocks of hell was the sheer amount of motels; the lost soul didn't remember seeing any other sort of shelter. There was the brothel Kenny mentioned, but for all Pip knew, that was just a motel too. In any case, he'd grown tired of wandering and finally resolved to give one of the run-down places a chance.

"Excuse me sir," his stumpy self peeked over the counter, "Are there any vacancies?"

The lanky man behind the counter cocked an eyebrow the nine year-old Englishman's way. Pip thought he smelled like a week-old ashtray, but said nothing and avoided wrinkling his nose at the stench, as it would be an awfully rude thing to do to a stranger.

"We 'ave un room on zee far end." his bony hands wrenched a dull, bronze key from the waist-loop, "'Oo are at door zeventeen."

Frenchie. No wonder it smells like an ashtray. He scoffed inwardly. Be polite, now.

"Much obliged, but how much do you charge?"

"We don't 'oos money 'ere. Weren't 'oo paying attension at z'orientasion?"

"I didn't go to an orientation."

"Zat is too bad, but ai 'ope 'oo don't count on me zhowing 'oo ze ropes, so to speak. Now take 'oor key and go."

"Right-o." The sass of this fellow. He pushed the thought aside and went to find his room.

Behind the motel, every unit seemed sleazier than the last. Odd scents and uncomfortable noises increased with the numbering until he stood before seventeen. It was relatively smell-free; what a ripe bit of luck!

For a moment the key resisted its lock, though after a few sharp smacks and a kick the portal popped open, un-oiled hinges shrieking like a bat. From within, a belch of hot, stale air greeted the little Brit. It left a gag-worthy taste in his mouth.

Surprisingly enough, chamber was in somewhat respectable condition— no skulls, no burning flesh, no uncomfortable noises. It was once again a less hellish experience than he would've figured.

"This isn't so bad. Why, I could even grow to enjoy it here," his hopeful smile faltered only a bit, "Even if it is lonely."

There wouldn't be a Mr. Mackey here to talk his problems out with, nor would there be any other children to insult him. He'd always appreciated being noticed at all. Even if the teasing wore on him. Occasionally, though, the others would let him tag along as a part of the group; it was that which truly created elation. Giving a wishful sigh, he thought of the time he'd almost become the fourth member of Stan, Kyle, and Cartman's group after Kenny died for such a long time. He couldn't imagine why they considered him, but it was touching nonetheless. He knew he never could have fit in with them.

He seemed ill-fitting all-over.

Am I missed? Do any of my old classmates care?

Hm.

"Now that's a selfish thing to think. I should be wondering if anyone else was squashed by Mecha-Streisand. Hopefully no— it's a bad way to go and I should know." Haha! That rhymed. "Besides, I'm sure Butters at least was sad to know I died. N- Not that I want him to be sad! No!"

I'll just stop.

Pip jumped onto the worn mattress, careful to dodge a spattering of bloodstains that tainted one side. Just looking at the burgundy blemishes set his teeth on edge. If there was just a towel or something to throw over that. But of course, as is motel law, all the towels had been stolen ages ago. Even if they were free, no one wanted to buy towels.

Regretfully, Pip decided to ignore the bloodbath to his left, but failed miserably at his resolution. The nine year-old's mind kept wandering to what terrible occurrence could account for the stains. He didn't even know people in hell had blood, but it made sense when he thought about it.

I need to sleep! I can't dwell about gore all night!

Pip squirmed a bit further to the edge, but to no avail. There wouldn't be any sleepingtonight. Not on these sheets.

"Hey Butters, we were just heading off to play Junior Lumberjacks, are you coming?"

The naïve boy rapped his knuckles together uneasily, "I-I don't know fellas, I'm just, uh well, I'm just not in the mood today."

"Butters, don't be such a pussy." Cartman picked up his axe, holding out a second for Butters.

"Now Eric, I'm not a pussy, I just don't feel very good today."

"If you don't want to come that's fine, man."

"Yeah, we get it dude."

"Th-Thanks fellas. Besides, my parents, well, they'd ground me for being a lumberjack, anyway." he waved a nervous goodbye, and sped off for home.

"See ya tomorrow Butters!"

...

"I'll bet he was the only one there."

"Shut up, Cartman." Kenny kicked him in the shin. There were probably a handful of people there.

"Ow, dammit! Owwww. " the fatass did his stupid whine, "Why do you care, Kinny?"

That was a good question. The hooded boy didn't care, really. It just seemed to him like Cartman should get kicked for being overtly dickish.

"Ha! Nice one, Kenny," Kyle always liked to see Cartman physically abused. Everyone did, really; it was a joke that never grew old.

Stan tried to rope the group back together, "Are we playing Junior Lumberjacks or not?"

"Yeah, yeah don't get any sand in your vagina there, Stan."

"Hey, _Kyle's_ the one with the sandy vagina!"

"Dude!"

"Sorry man, but that's _not_ getting pawned off on me."

"God DAMMIT! I don't want to be known as the sandy vagina for the rest of my life!"

"You're not just a sandy vagina, Kyle, you're also a dirty Jew."

Kenny threw up his arms in resignation, "Can we just be fucking lumberjacks already?!"

They all fell silent, scrunching back in surprise for a few seconds before erupting into simultaneous laughter.

"Jesus, Kenny. Yeah, we'll get going."

Each one picked up an axe and trotted a little ways downhill.

There's no way this is safe.

The boy in the orange parka didn't bother to consider safety much anymore; he had nothing to fear and no one besides him ever got hurt badly. If anything, Kenny's presence drew danger away from the others, and if worse came to worst, it'd only cost him an afternoon in Hell.

Have I been crushed by a tree yet? Probably. But one more time around the merry-go-round couldn't hurt.

Sure enough, about half an hour later, his entrails had been squirted onto the snow like toothpaste from a tube.

"They killed Kenny!"

"You bastards!"

"Tough break for ol' Kenny there. Best get back to the mines." Cartman apathetically waddled back to his tree.

"Do you think that's why my mom didn't want us playing this game?"

"Aye! I said back to work!" the lardass shouted before continuing that slave song he loved so much, "Job's never finished,"

_Chop_

"Massagot me working,"

_Chop_

"Someday massa set me free!"

Hell was a home away from home at this point.

Even though Kenny's death meter had slowed its roll so to speak, he still expected to be making frequent visits to the land of fire for the remainder of his life. Which would be eternity at this rate.

But what to do on this visit...?

"What ho, Kenneth!" a familiar, cheery voice shouted over the background sizzles.

Kenny gave an exasperated look to the heavens as if to ask God, 'what the fuck?'

"Hi Pip. Again..." their last conversation had been _sooo_ comfortable, "Why are _you_ wandering the streets of _hell_ in the middle of the night?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't sleep, because my bed is a crime scene. What about you?"

"I had another _accident_," he mumbled nonchalantly, "Junior Lumberjacks, you know?"

"I'm afraid I don't."

Silence.

He just stood there smiling, looking the hooded boy straight in the face. It was more than a little uncomfortable.

Desperate to break the deadlock, Kenny looked for anything to say, "So what's this about a crime scene?"

"My bed at the motel has a lot of blood on the one side, and I just can't sleep with it next to me. I was planning on just walking until I got so tired that I didn't care anymore."

"That bad? Jesus! Did someone unleash their whole monthly on your sheets?"

"What's a monthly?" his clueless expression stared expectantly Kenny's way.

"That time of the month when a chick's pu..." Kenny trailed off. He had no problem explaining these things to his friends and Cartman, but the irritating little British kid? "Uh... you don't want to know anyway." he finished hurriedly.

"I'm kidding, silly! I know what it is! Why, when I lived with my sister in England, she was always 'having her monthly' if you know what I mean. Hahaha!"

McCormick was dumfounded for a moment. He took some time to process...

His high laughter faded, "Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose that was rather rotten of me to say—"

The boy exploded in sharp, muffled cackling, "No, no! That was great! Fucking great!" he doubled over, stomach constricted under his arms.

"Was it really great?" the smaller boy's eyes flashed like fog lights.

"Where has this Pip been?" He coughed, trying to reel the giggles back in.

"I've always been like this." he looked genuinely confused at the other's query. As if he wasn't sure how Kenny couldn't know.

"You've always been funny?"

"Why yes! You can ask Butters and his little second-grade chap. We played _Charlie's Angels_ in the basement during the meteor shower, and Stanley was Bosley."

Once again, Kenny was rolling with laughter. "Stan?! Stan was playing _Charlie's Angels_?!"

"Oh dear, is he going to be upset that I told you? Oh don't laugh at him, please. He didn't really want to play the game!"

"I'm just gonna rip on him a little." Kenny assured, "It's fun."

Pip straightened, "Yes, well, I hate to be rude, but I didn't find it terribly funny whenever you 'ripped on' me." his soft voice was serious, and he deserved a serious response. Kenny wiped his smile away, not that it could even be seen through the coat.

"We weren't ripping on you, Pip. We were being outright assholes because it made us laugh and you were annoying. You're just an easy target."

The statement was completely matter-of-fact. No disrespect, just a summation. Kenny made no moves to apologize or defend himself, and the young englishman didn't know how to take his comment. It wasn't an outright insult, but it's truthfulness had been worse than any teasing. All he could think to reply with was a simple 'oh'.

Maybe I shouldn't have put it so bluntly. He hadn't ever seriously considered if the insults got to Pip. Everything seemed to rolled off him like a truck over roadkill; it had been part of the reason Pip annoyed them. He was too damn upbeat. Though at this moment... that optimism seemed drained.

He's not _that_ bad.

Despite being the perverted little boy he was, Kenny was also a real softie, and this solemn feeling in the air _really_ clawed at his conscious. He had to provide some sort of consolation. It'd be a major dick-move to leave on a note like this, and if there was one thing Kenny McCormick did _not_ want to be, it was a dick.

"But you're actually an okay guy," he patted the Brit's back, "More than okay, really."

"Do you mean that?" a creeping smile prepared to jump.

"Yeah. And I'd still mean it even if all my friends laughed at me for saying so."

The creeping smile showed itself, light and sincere on his taut face, "I think the same of you, Kenneth! And I'm glad you were so brutally honest."

"By the way, you don't need to call me Kenneth. My parents have never even called me that."

"Sorry, Kenny."

"It's fine, but I should get moving. I'll be resurrected in the morning." he gave a curt, salute-ish farewell and started off.

"Can I ask one thing?"

He stopped flat and pivoted on heel, "What man?"

"I know you don't think me a proper friend, but next time you catch the Westbound... could we hang out, again anyway? Like we did just now?" He stared ahead with hands knotted in anticipation.

Admittedly, talking with Pip hadn't been bad at all. The immortal fourth-grader wasn't even sure why he was leaving so early, either. Rebirth happened regardless of his current location, and there were hours between him and morning. There wasn't any reason he couldn't offer the lonely guy some more of his time.

"Alright! Next time I die, I'll find you and we can bum around as long as you like. Until then, I don't _actually_ have to leave yet, so... you wanna peek at the titty shack?"

Just like the first time the shack was mentioned, Pip's face flushed crimson, looking like a beet in a bow tie.

Kenny gave a crazed laugh.

**_Halfway through this chapter it dawned in me that Pocket would be in hell with Pip. Pocket sounds so terrible to write, though, that there's no chance he's showing up._**

**_Sorry to all the hardcore Pocket fans out there. _**


End file.
